


More'n Skin Deep

by awabubbles



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Emotional Sex, M/M, Shaving, Wincest - Freeform, s2 wincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-20
Updated: 2015-02-20
Packaged: 2018-03-13 22:48:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3399110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awabubbles/pseuds/awabubbles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam lets his older brother shave him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	More'n Skin Deep

Sam exhales carefully. The wet blade scrapes gently across his skin. Water trickles down his clean-shaven leg. Sam shivers, and then freezes, afraid that he’s moved too quickly, afraid the blade will slip and draw blood. But the razor is firm in his brother’s hand. Dean anticipates every move from Sam like he’s lived this moment before. Dean guides the razor around his knee, and Sam watches another streak of his pale skin emerge clean and hairless.

Sam and Dean are sitting inside a dimly lit bathroom in a motel somewhere on route 66. Sam is on the edge of a pink porcelain bathtub and his brother is perched on the other. Sam is naked. Dean is clothed. Sam’s left leg is extended over the edge, resting gently in Dean’s lap.  Sam kneads his toes into the worn fabric of his brother’s jeans. Dean smiles and says “hey now” as he leans forward to rinse the razor under the tub’s faucet.

They both watch as shaving cream and hair get washed away.

Dean brings the razor back to his leg and Sam tenses, muscles bunching under his wet skin. His brother notices.

“Not hurtin’ you am I Sammy?” he asks. Peeks up from Sam’s mile-long legs to confirm.

“No,” Sam grunts. He fidgets on the edge of the tub. His ass is too bony to stand sitting like this much longer. “It’s just. You don’t have to do this, you know.”

“Mm-hmm,” Dean agrees. But he ignores him and continues his work.

The razor gets pulled across Sam’s skin again, dunked under the water. Repetitive. Methodical. Dean’s face is perfectly blank, but Sam recognizes the expression. It’s how Dean looks when he’s concentrating, completely absorbed in the task at hand. He’s seen his brother like this when he’s cleaning guns, sharpening knives, and now shaving his little brother’s legs.

Sam finds another shiver crawling up his spine but suppresses it. He sits perfectly still for Dean, concentrates on his breathing. And tries not to think too much about how bare he feels, letting Dean do this. It’s not because he’s naked, or not entirely because he’s naked. It’s because Sam still vividly remembers his brother lying on a hospital bed, clinging to life. Dean was dead after that car crash, or as close to it as you can get without going down a tunnel, or heading towards a white light, or whatever is supposed to happen at the end. He feel bare because Sam nearly lost everything that mattered to him, again, and it scares him to know how easily his life can be ripped away from him.

Now Dean was alive, like a miracle, sitting in front of him as if reapers hadn’t been _this_ close to taking him away for good. And Sam feels so goddamn grateful for that, every day. He’d meant what he said to Dean, when he thought maybe he wasn’t going to make it: they had just started being brother’s again. And Sam wants to make sure nothing can ever pull them apart.

“Kay,” Dean says when he’s finished with both of Sam’s legs, when it’s time to move on. “You ready?”

Sam turns a deep red. “You’re sure?” he asks, voice jumping into an embarrassing squeak like he’s fifteen again. His soft, freshly-shaven thighs press together unconsciously.

“This was your idea,” Dean reminds him. “And it’s not like I’m gonna hurt ya.”

“I know,” Sam huffs, offended Dean even has to even say it.

Whatever has divided them in the past, whatever might still be dividing them, Sam wants to erase it. He wants to be so tangled up in Dean he can’t tell where Dean ends and he begins. They’ve always had that problem, he thinks, and Sam’s resisted it to a point. But he’s not resisting anymore. So he takes a deep breath and nods.

“Okay,” Sam concedes, and his legs fall apart.

Dean nods, a promise, and goes to work. He reaches for the shaving cream on the lip of the tub and squirts some into his hand, applying it gently to Sam’s pubic hair. Sam squirms a little under the cool gel.  He closes his eyes again and tenses for the razor. Dean’s hands are pressing his thighs open. He periodically squeezes them to let Sam know everything’s going to be okay, that he can trust him.

Sam trusts his older brother with his life. Doesn’t hesitate for a second when they’re out on a hunt because Dean always has his back. Dean always will. But this isn’t anything like hunting. With a razor and a bottle of shaving cream. It feels different. Different from loving his brother. Different from kissing his brother. Different from fucking him. Sam’s surprised to find there’s still lines to cross. This feels like they’re crossing one. And he wants to.

Sam feels water dripping over his abdomen. Down the sides of his legs, over his cock. Dean is finished, and washing him clean. Sam opens his eyes and looks. He’s completely hairless from the waist down. He gapes in awe at himself, twisting his hips, examining. He runs his hands over his stomach, across his thighs. He feels how smooth he is, skin still slick from the water.

“Stand up.” Dean commands. “Almost done.”

Sam makes a face but he complies. He stands and Dean rotates him until his little brother is facing the door.

“Bend over,” Dean says.

“ _Dean_ ,” Sam chides, like his brother is doing something embarrassing right now: chewing with his mouth open or belching in public.

“You want the full Brazilian or not, Sammy? C’mon, bend over and spread ‘em!” Dean says, patting his ass paternally.

Sam rolls his eyes but he obeys, leans over and pulls himself open for Dean. Dark brown hair hangs over his blushing cheeks.

He hears the shaving cream squirt out of the bottle again and jumps a little as the lather is rubbed over his ass, the obtrusive head of the razor dragging across his sensitive skin. Sam stands there holding his ass open while his brother shaves him and struggles against equal waves of humiliation and lust.

He feels stupid. But also vulnerable and a little helpless. That’s not something he enjoys but Sam has put himself in a position like this because he doesn’t enjoy it, because he’s struggling as Dean gently pries him open, draws the razor blades against his skin. Because if he didn’t struggle this wouldn’t mean anything.

There are no lines anymore, he tells himself.

“All done,” Dean says minutes later. He puts a washcloth under the running water and clears any remaining soap or hair. When he’s finished Dean taps his thighs to indicate Sam should exit the bath tub. Sam does so and waits. Dean shuts off the water, sets the razor aside, and reaches for a towel he has folded up on the closed toilet seat nearby.

Dean steps out of the tub and kneels in front of Sam. He unfolds the towel and very carefully dries his little brother’s legs. He brushes the cotton over Sam’s dick, tucks it between his legs.

Sam makes a face. He feels like an idiot. But he doesn’t say anything.

When Dean is done, he twirls the damp towel around his forearm and dumps it back on the toilet. Then he goes to the bottom of the sink cabinet and removes a bottle of lotion. He takes up the same space in front of Sam again and squirts a dollop of lotion in his palm.

“What are you doing?” Sam asks.

“It rubs the lotion on its skin, or else it gets the hose again,” Dean quotes, laughing at his own joke.

Sam rolls his eyes heaven-wards for the second time that night.

“You’ve got to apply lotion so you stay all baby-smooth, baby boy.” Dean informs him with a smirk.

Sam’s torso moves along with Dean as he rubs the lotion in, feels his brother’s wide gun-calloused hands pressing firmly into his thighs. He closes his eyes and relaxes into the touch. “Oh,” Sam says, with a petulant air he hasn’t grown out of quite yet, even in his early twenties. “Is that where all the lotion goes? Here I thought you were having fun without me.”

Dean scoffs, squeezes his thigh. “Bitch,” he mutters, and Sam laughs. Dean squeezes another dollop in his hand and starts lotioning his other leg now.

“How was it?” Sam asks quietly, as Dean’s hands trail up his thigh.

His brother freezes for a moment, like he’s been caught. “How was what?”

“Doing…that?”

“Oh,” Dean falters. Sam knows it’s not fair of him to ask. Dean won’t process this until tonight, or maybe days later. That’s just how his brother works: he acts first and it takes him awhile to recognize what he feels, if anything at all.

But Sam can’t help it. He’s so raw right now, he needs to hear Dean’s voice. “Strange?” he prompts.

“No,” Dean says without hesitation. “Not strange. Close, maybe, but…” Dean’s green eyes flicker up to his face. Sam smiles down. He feels encouraged. “It doesn’t really feel all that different from stuff I’ve always been doing, s’all.”

“Stuff?”

Dean shrugs. “Yeah,” he says. And Sam thinks maybe that’s all, but then Dean keeps going. “You know I used to change your diapers, Sammy. I dressed you. I shoved your feet into little booties. I fed you and…just, took care of you. Always took care of you, when you let me. So. The way I see it, this isn’t all that different.”

Sam feels his heart melting, bubbling and boiling over. Dean, his older brother, always the one there for him, always ready to accept what Sam wants to give, no hesitation. Sam realizes if there was anything holding them apart, maybe it was him. Maybe this exercise, this whole thing was just Sam learning how to let himself go.

“Dean,” Sam whispers, his throat constricted. He puts his hand on his brother’s head to get his attention. Dean sits back on his heels and looks up at him curiously.

“I feel naked,” Sam confesses quietly.

Dean looks him up and down. “You _are_ naked.”

“No, I mean…” but Sam doesn’t know what he means, or how to explain this. Except that he feels like he _belongs_ to Dean in this moment. And suddenly he doesn’t want to be two people anymore. Dean is right next to him, at his feet, and it’s too far away. “I need….”

Sam’s eyes are wide, pleading, and that’s all it takes. Dean is physically intuitive, the way Sam is emotionally. He stands without another word and leans in to kiss his little brother.

“Like that?” he asks. Sam nods. He chokes on a whimper, before pulling at Dean, smashing their mouths, their bodies together, as close as they can get.

Dean doesn’t resist. He lets Sam take. He lets Sam kiss, and _need_. And then he brings his hands up. He drapes one palm across his little brother’s cheek and the other twines into his hair. Dean grabs at Sam’s hair and when he _pulls_ the dynamic changes. Now it’s Sam giving way, letting his brother lead.

“So pretty for me, baby boy,” Dean whispers. Sam can’t remember when they stopped kissing. “Gonna take care of you yeah? Gonna let me?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Sam swears and now Dean is guiding him down, towards the floor.

Dean takes the towel again and lays it out. Sam thinks maybe they should move. There’s a bed just feet outside the bathroom door. But there’s an urgency inside him that says this is as a good a place as any because it needs to happen _now_. So Sam lays back and looks up at his brother.

Dean removes his shirt, and the tank beneath, draping them over the edge of the tub. He kneels between Sam’s open legs and gingerly touches his little brother’s clean-shaven thighs.

Sam surprises himself with a moan.

Dean smiles. “You’re soft,” he comments.

“Prepubescent,” Sam complains.

But Dean shakes his head. “No, just beautiful.”

Sam reaches out to him and Dean lowers himself. They kiss again. Sam wraps a leg around his brother’s waist. Dean’s hips press into him. The pull, the drag of the denim across Sam’s skin sends every nerve ending in his body alight. His toes curl as his brother and him dry hump on the bathroom floor.

Sam wraps his other leg around Dean. Now his brother is lying on top of him, bodies pressed together like they had been seconds before. Sam pushes his hips into Dean, grinds across the denim. But Sam is selfish, and he wants more. When Dean starts kissing the side of his neck Sam says “Deeaaannnn,” and it’s somewhere between a plea and a whine.

Dean mutters “patience, baby,” into the crook of his neck. He sits up a moment later. Sam is instantly sorry for the loss of him.

Dean drags his fingernails across his inner thigh and Sam’s hips twitch. Sam’s not hiding what he wants and his brother gives him a wicked smile. He pushes Sam’s hips above his head, throwing his ass up in the air where Dean wants it as he begins eating him out. Dean kisses him, gentle at first, but becomes gradually rougher. Flicks his tongue across Sam’s asshole and gently drags his teeth over the sensitive skin. Sam groans with want and the sensation of his brother’s stubbled skin scraping against the inside of his cheeks.

Facial hair. Dean’s wide hands on him. The deep guttural growls Dean makes as he begins to fuck his little brother with his tongue. Sam feels like a child again. Hairless. Innocent. Completely helpless. He’s at the mercy of his older brother, and Sam summons the courage to surrender as Dean’s saliva-slicked fingers slip inside him. First one, then two. Sam groans, some need in him only partially satisfied.

Dean is slow with Sam, wants to make sure they can both enjoy this for as long as it lasts. He pushes inside of Sam, then pulls out slowly. Sam’s eyes are closed. He licks his lips. Sam’s dick is hard and already leaking on to his stomach but he refuses to relieve any tension by touching himself, like Dean’s dick is the only thing that’s going to satisfy him. And hell Dean loves him a little more just for that.

“Gonna fuck you baby, don’t worry. Said I was gonna take care of you didn’t I?” Dean assures him.

Sam nods silently, takes a deep breath. Then Dean leaves him, just for a second, to lean over and pull a bottle of lube from under the sink. Sam smiles as his hips touch the towel under him again. Lube and lotion. Either Dean was prepared for this or Sam’s been blind to what Dean does in the bathroom by himself.

Dean settles back in-between his legs a moment a later. Sam feels the heat of him, is content knowing that at least they’re touching, a thread running between them hot and alive.

Dean pushes his jeans down below his hips. Sam sees his brother’s cock freed and his stomach tightens. Dean takes the lube and slicks himself, looks down at his little brother with dilated pupils.

“Okay, baby,” he whispers. Then Dean shifts his weight, leans forward on his knees and props himself up on one hand, using the other to search for Sam’s ass. He finds Sam’s hole, still slick and wet from his saliva, and guides himself inside.

Sam gasps as his brother’s dick pushes into him. He relaxes his muscles, allows Dean to fill him. His brother grunts and pushes all the way inside. Then lets Sam adjust. Sam wraps his legs around Dean again, like a vice locking them together. He draws Dean into a kiss. Dean kisses back and slides his hands under Sam’s shoulders. They lie like that on the bathroom floor, wrapped together like on person, exactly as Sam wanted.

It’s only when Dean starts moving inside him that Sam has to break their kiss, leaning his head back in a long groan. Dean grinds against him, pushing in and out, slow but steady. Sam feels his older brother’s pubic hair brush against him, under his balls. He thinks it’s silly how something so simple could make him feel so owned, giving himself to Dean, letting Dean shave him, letting Dean _take_ him.

“Fuck, Sammy,” Dean growls. He kisses Sam’s neck as he fucks him, harder now, clamping down with his teeth every so often when he gets excited.

Sam’s fingers dig into Dean’s back. He never wants to let go. They’ve lost so much, the two of them. Mom. Now Dad. They lost their childhood. Any hope at a happy family. Any idea of safety. They’ve lost so much it’s easier just to list what they have left: The Impala, a handful of shotguns, pistols, and each other.

If he ever took his brother granted before, _ever_ , Sam vows never to do so again. They’re in this together. Whatever this is. This crazy fight started by demons or whatever. In it together till the end. Whether that end is in victory or in blood it doesn’t matter. Sam tries not to think about it, the big picture, and he knows Dean does the same. Because it’s scary now, scarier than it ever was before. Two kids against the world and their Dad’s not here to give them anymore advice. It’s just the two of them against everything in the dark, everything in the pit of hell.

And Sam tries not to think about that cause it scares the shit out of him.

Instead he thinks about Dean’s lips on his skin, his brother’s cock in his ass, filling him up as they move together. The world shrinks until it’s a pin. A moment in time between Sam and Dean on a bathroom floor and there’s nothing else outside of them right now. For a second he forgets there ever was.

Sam’s face, his hands, his feet, they’re all connected to Dean. Dean. Dean. His world right now. Sam sighs. His brother is fucking him deep. He hangs on because there’s nothing else to cling to. He wishes every moment could be like this. Inhaling Dean, feeling him move on top of him, inside of him. Like this, feeling full, feeling whole. Like this. Two brothers. One brother. _Like this like this like this._

“Hngh, Sammy! I’m. Ah.”

Sam understands, clenches his muscles tight. Dean hangs onto him and thrusts, pumping his hips. And then Dean’s coming, growling into his little brother’s ears as he spills inside of him. Sam pushes his dick into Dean’s belly, grinds against him. Dean shifts, grabs his brother’s cock and pumps him like they’re both horny teenagers again, desperate and frustrated. It doesn’t take much. Sam comes hard, throwing his head back, spilling out onto his belly. His ass clenches as he comes. Dean grunts, feeling Sam’s muscles tightening around his own throbbing dick.

Sam clings to his brother, shaking slightly as his orgasm washes through him. Dean’s breathing heavily. He’s not even supporting himself anymore, splayed out on top of Sam. But Sam likes the pressure, the heat of him. Ever so slowly Sam untangles himself, lets his arms slack. He unhooks his legs and lies back on the bathroom floor. Content. Well-fucked.

Dean sighs like he’s a tire deflating. “Where are we at?” he mutters seconds later, his syllables slurred together.

“Hmm?”

“State,” Dean clarifies, backwards. “What?”

“North Carolina,” Sam answers. It takes him a moment to remember there’s a world outside this bathroom.

Dean pushes himself up on one elbow, blinks at Sam. “Not California?” he asks, genuinely surprised.

“No,” Sam smirks. “Why?”

Dean chews on his lip. “Well I…thought I felt the earth move, for a second.” He breaks out into a dopey grin and laughs at himself, embarrassed.

Sam smiles, touches Dean’s face. “Me too,” he confesses.

Dean leans in to kiss him.


End file.
